THE WOLF AND THE RIDING HOODS
The twins, Catalina and Philippa, were on their way through the
stretch of bush between their house and their grandparents' farm.
"Do you think we'll meet a wolf?" Catalina asked as she
jumped from log to log.
"We
might." Philippa put down the basket their mother had packed beside one of
the fallen logs: the log had settled across two larger ones and formed a nice
little bridge.
The girls walked along its narrow surface, their arms
outstretched, hands spread, balancing.
Arthur drove along the slushy track, wet from the morning's rain,
looking for Leggatt's farm. He wondered if their bit of insurance was worth
going out of his way. Rounding a bend in the road, he saw ahead of him,
two little figures clad in red raincoats and hats, walking along a fallen log.
He stopped when he reached them.
"Hi, there, chicks," he called, grinning as he wound
down the window. Though he was nearing sixty, Arthur liked to keep up with what
he thought was the latest jargon of the younger set.
The girls stared at him then said in unison, "Hello."
Arthur switched off the engine. "Where are you going?"
"We're going to see grandma," one of the little girls
said.
"Where does your grandma live?"
“She lives in a house on the other side of the forest.” She
pointed to the track behind her, which led into the forest. “We’re having a
sleepover with her and Granddad tonight.”
Arthur’s eyes, set in a pudgy red face, glinted with expectation.
“I’ll give you a lift. It’s a long way for two little girls to go by
themselves.” He leant over and opened the door of the car.
The
little girls jumped down from the log. One of them picked up a basket. They
stood with the log between them and Arthur.
Joe Hennessey builds a sheep station in the north of WEstern Australia for his heirs.
